


Footsteps In The Darkness

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: F/M, Gen, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-13
Updated: 1999-04-13
Packaged: 2018-11-10 05:37:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11120988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: Fraser asks Kowalski for a favor when he's with Frannie.





	Footsteps In The Darkness

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Cohabitation 1: Footsteps In The Dark  


## Cohabitation 1: Footsteps In The Dark 

  
by Adia

"Sure Fraser, no prob." Stanley Ray Kowalski stood leaned against  
the  
door jam with an odd expression on his face. One that Fraser  
identified  
as resembling that of a musk ox caught in the headlights  
of a  
snowmobile. An almost panicked look. Then again, Fraser shrugged,  
it  
could just be the normal for Stan. He always seemed a bit...  
jumpy.  
Stan's white buttoned down shirt was pressed and worn nicely  
with a pair  
of navy blue slacks. His spiky hair looked a tad over  
spiked. Especially  
for it being a Friday night.  
Fraser stood patiently before the doorway. He let his gaze move around  
the doors edge. Kowalski was still standing in the same spot. Slowly  
Fraser made deliberate eye contact, trying a non-verbal form of  
waking  
Stanley from his obvious trance he'd seemed to just recently  
fall into.  
Fraser pushed the thought out of his mind before he could  
smile about  
remembering the new found significance of the word,  
"Cauliflower."  
Quickly Stan snapped to attention. His  
eyes bugging out and his arms  
flailing wildly to straighten his  
already perfectly creased appearance.  
He ran a hand through his  
blond hair, spiking it and calming himself in  
one move. Taking cool  
control of the unexpected situation, "Come on in."  
Fraser  
slipped past him into the apartment, "Thank you kindly, Ray."  
"Welcome. Uh, I was just um, ya know, watchin' some er..."  
he quickly  
clicked the television on via remote, "TV. Uh..."  
"Ray? Why are you dressed so formally?" Fraser inquired out  
of nowhere.  
Stan started to panic, "No reason Fraser, can't  
a guy just wear what he  
wants in his own home?"  
Fraser nodded, "Certainly, Ray."  
Stan's stuttering and stammering had significantly increased within the  
last two minutes and his staggering only seemed to get worse as  
the  
night progressed. Untill finally Fraser insisted on going to  
bed hardly  
able to have the patients for Stanley's new nervousness.  
He was  
concerned though. Ray, Stan, was his friend and he wanted  
to be there  
for him. He knew something was wrong but he couldn't  
seem to figure out  
just what it was.  
Fraser fell asleep rather quickly after Stan settled into his room  
closing the door and turning on his stereo to a soft sound. Of course  
Fraser had trained himself so well it didn't take much effort to  
find  
sleep. Kowalski had politely offered Fraser his room but Fraser  
knew  
he'd be much more comfortable where he was now. Which indeed  
he was.  
Comfortable and grateful for a friend such as Ray. Fraser  
needed at  
least a week break from the Consulate. Since he'd dropped  
Dief off at an  
training camp that he'd been so longing to attend  
it was difficult not  
having a friend around. Both the Inspector  
and Turnbull were driving him  
nuts. Which for Fraser was a difficult,  
if not impossible, task. However  
Turnbull had managed that with  
his constant cleaning in that frilly  
apron and his determined need  
to feed Fraser. Always cooking and  
insisting Fraser sample it, seeking  
his sincere approval. But, honestly,  
how many different flavors  
of tea can one sip during a mere twenty-four  
hour day?  
Then there was Inspector Thatcher. She had to be the most complex person  
he'd ever come in contact with. One moment she was kind, caring,  
even  
marginally... nice. Then the next she was ranting and complaining  
about  
something else, usually something he didn't understand anyway.  
The woman  
changed subjects quicker than he could blink. Her constant  
energy had  
been enough to drive him insane. So, lately, with the  
lack of privacy  
the Consulate was offering he'd decided to ask Stanley  
for a little  
favor. Just a warm indoor place to crash for a few  
nights. Nothing too  
permanent or inconveniencing. At least he hoped  
it wasn't an  
inconvenience.  
During the night, only a few hours after Fraser had fallen asleep his  
sharp ears woke him from a deep sleep. In the distance he could  
hear  
someone taking steps. A door opened then shut. A moments pause  
in  
between. The footsteps were coming closer and what seemed like  
more  
frequent. One right after the other like baby steps. Closer  
and closer  
then another door opened, what sounded like the front  
door, then closed.  
After almost a 10 minute pause the front door  
clicked open and shut  
again.  
Fraser's curiosity got the better of him. He'd sworn himself to keep  
his  
eyes shut, but he just couldn't bring himself to keep the promise.  
It  
was his business if an intruder had invaded the apartment without  
him  
immediate knowledge. Fraser's eyes popped open able to see the  
tall  
figure pushing the door shut. He reached up and pulled the  
chain hanging  
from the lamp and the room filled with a blinding  
light. It took no time  
for his eyes to adjust. He located the identity  
of the man standing,  
hand on the door knob, twisting the dead bolt  
locked. Kowalski. Fraser  
cocked an eyebrow.  
Meanwhile, Stanley jumped a good foot in the air and slammed his back  
into the wall from being startled. He clamped his right hand over  
his  
chest covering his heart, "Dammit Fraser! You coulda given  
me an  
aneurysm."  
Fraser was frozen, eyes wide open, eyebrow still arched, "What were  
you  
doing, Ray?"  
"Nuthin' Fraser, go back to sleep." Stan ran another nervous  
hand  
through his messed hair and staggered back to bed. As Stanley  
closed the  
door Fraser sat up and scratched his head. This certainly  
was puzzling.  
Why would Kowalski be up at two in the morning and  
standing at the front  
door? Did he perhaps sleepwalk? That most  
definitely must be it.  
Still even hours later Fraser was lying on  
his back wide awake. Unable  
to shut his eyes or get his mind to  
shut up. His brain was racing with  
thoughts. Questions. What had  
caused Kowalski's strange behavior? He  
hated being suspicious but  
he had little choice in the matter. He knew  
what he had to do. "In  
the morning after Ray had finished his coffee,"  
Fraser planned,  
"I will then simply have a little discussion. An  
explanation."  
After all he couldn't very well sleep in Stan's house and  
have him  
so obviously uncomfortable. Fraser was sure he could find a way  
to work things out.  
Before Stan woke that morning Fraser had all his things picked up and  
packed away. He was stiffly pacing the floor with his hands behind  
his  
back running scenario after scenario over in his mind, "I  
will kindly  
state that I appreciate his hospitality but I do not  
wish to be an  
inconvenience." Fraser swore to himself that  
he would not mention his  
own suspicions that Ray had been watching  
him sleep. That would be too  
embarrassing, for everyone. He and  
Ray Vecchio, the real Ray, always had  
a close, very close friendship.  
Ray Vecchio behaving like that wouldn't,  
and didn't, bother him.  
Ray Vecchio was his closest friend and even in  
his absence that  
status remains. But Stan, well, Fraser was unsure how  
to describe  
it, but the idea of Stan watching him sleep didn't impress  
him.  
Fraser once again swore himself never to mention to Stan any of that.  
Stan was a good friend and he always tried him best. He was nice  
enough  
to let Fraser stay here. Fraser knew he should just take  
that at face  
value, be grateful and move on. "Besides,"  
Fraser convinced himself, "he  
was just sleep walking. That  
is all."  
In the silence of the apartment Fraser could hear a stirring in Stan's  
room and then a sudden knock. A knock? Where had that come from?  
He  
heard the knock again then realized it was coming from outside  
the front  
door. Before Fraser could step to answer it Stanley bolted  
out of his  
bedroom. Quickly he yanked the door open, without even  
a moments  
hesitation his face lit up, "Hey Frannie, come on  
in."  
Francesca entered the room casually. Not at first noticing  
Fraser, she  
leaned in closer to Stan, his eye popped out and Frannie  
had a horrible  
feeling something was seriously wrong. She could  
feel someone's eyes on  
her back. She didn't know those eyes belonged  
to Fraser untill she  
cautiously turned and found him looking a tab  
bit surprised. Francesca  
pivoted quickly on her heels turning back  
to Stanley and mouthed the  
words, "What's he doing here?"  
Then flew back around, "Hey Frase." She deliberately avoided  
eye contact  
then shifted her weight nervously from side to side  
at least twelve  
times within the last minute.  
"Good morning, Francesca. What brings you here?" Her nervousness  
wasn't  
even phasing Fraser, then again, he never really paid much  
attention to  
here anyway so why would he start now? Francesca panicked  
and threw a  
slight glare over to Stan who was standing with his  
hands in his pockets  
leaned against the still open door.  
She mouthed, "Help me!"  
Stan tried his best, "Uh... um, yeah, F... Fr... Frannie's just  
'ere ta,  
uh... pick up, um..." It wasn't helping.  
Frannie took over, "Gosh Ray! Can't you remember anything!? Geez!"  
she  
flared her arms exasperatedly, "You borrowed that uh...  
uh... Etta James  
CD from Ma when you were gonna - the point is -  
I'm here now to pick it  
up!" She marched into his bedroom and  
spotted Stan trying to distract  
Fraser before she found it safe  
to close the door.  
Stan teetered on the balls of his feet, "So Fraser..."  
Fraser looked puzzled, "Francesca certainly looks... illuminated  
this  
morning."  
Stan's eyes suddenly glazed over and his speech slurred, "Yeah,  
she sure  
does, doesn't she?" A slow smile crept up his face  
and curved his lips.  
He didn't wipe it off quickly enough because  
Fraser's eyes caught it. A  
soft blush springing out and coloring  
his pale cheeks.  
Fraser's curiosity again got the best of him, "Hmmm. Ray, wouldn't  
it be  
more likely that Ma Vecchio's CD would be out here on your  
CD rack?"  
Stan froze. He couldn't even blink. He knew he'd  
been caught and there  
was no good way to explain it. He was starting  
to cave in. He knew there  
was no use in lying to the Mountie. Without  
warning Francesca burst out  
of the room clutching her purse. She  
patted it, "Got it."

Inside his own mind Stan gave a loud, "Whew!" Then motioned  
Francesca  
out the door, "I'll walk ya out Frannie."  
To cover her own tracks Frannie gave Fraser a leering smile, "Bye  
Frase," then waved good-bye with her fingers.  
Once outside the apartment and down the hall Stan sighed, "That  
was  
close."  
Frannie spat out at the same time, "What was he doing here? I thought  
he'd be gone by this time of morning!" Then they both laughed.  
Francesca started again, "Sorry, I just left my purse in your  
room last  
night."  
Stan's eyes were glowing, "'S okay. So, um, Frannie," he leaned  
in  
closer to her as the elevator button dinged. They entered the  
elevator,  
"Lemme walk ya to yer car."  
Frannie took his hand, "You're so attractive when your polite."  
He entwined his fingers with hers. She spoke softly in a whisper  
even  
though they were the only two in the elevator, "I had  
a beautiful time  
last night. You really can cook." There was  
a hint of surprise in her  
voice.  
When the elevator stopped Stanley and Frannie stepped out, hand in hand.  
Trying to keep this all a secret was hard, but being at the station  
everyday made it nearly impossible. That's why those moments where  
they  
could be themselves and no one would care were treasured and  
cherished  
all the more. Stanley gave a sly grin as the words left  
his lips, "Well,  
ya know, Frannie, I have many hidden talents.  
Maybe I could introduce  
you to them sometime."  
Francesca grinned, "That'd be nice."  
Stan's eyebrows climbed. Last night hadn't turned out exactly as he'd  
planned. Frannie had shown up right on time at 8 o'clock and he'd  
cooked  
her dinner. Pasta. And she had loved it, not because of the  
food itself,  
but because of the effort he'd shown. His desperate  
need to make  
everything just right. To Frannie, he had succeeded  
even though their  
evening had been interrupted. They'd just finished  
dinner and Stan had a  
little dancing in mind when the knock at the  
door came.  
Francesca and Stanley both flew into auto-panic mode. Frannie grabbed  
her purse, slung it on, blew out the candles then lugged the wine  
glasses and wine bottle back into his room where she hid. Stanley  
turned  
off the stereo and put their plates in the kitchen sink and  
quickly  
cleared the rest of the table before hearing his bedroom  
door shut.  
After he scanned the room to make sure it was all clear  
he answered the  
door. Yanking it open revealing Fraser poised, mid-knock.  
Fraser had stayed out in the hallway expressing that he could really  
use  
a break from those maniac's at the Consulate. That's not how  
Fraser had  
put it, he's far too tactful for that, but that was how  
Kowalski had  
interpreted Fraser's long endless explanation. Stanley  
took pity on the  
poor guy and invited him in to stay. Fraser was  
his friend, the first  
person to actually give him a chance and he  
wasn't about to turn his  
back on him. Plus, with Fraser's starched  
habits, having him around  
wouldn't be much of a problem. Then it  
dawned on him. He remembered the  
sweet girl hiding in his bedroom.  
Suddenly he felt like a teenager  
again. Only the girl wasn't Stella.  
It was someone much sweeter, much  
warmer. Frannie. His mind drifted  
and before he knew it Fraser walked  
inside.  
After watching TV for half an hour Kowalski had made three trips to his  
room. Fraser was naturally inquisitive but unable to hear the events  
in  
the room over the volume of the TV. Finally Fraser decided it  
best to go  
to bed. He was surprised when Stan agreed but not surprised  
to hear the  
stereo go on. Fraser felt guilty for having pushed Stanley  
out of his  
own space in his own home.  
Meanwhile, Francesca had waited, rather patiently, for Stanley's return.  
She'd poured them both a glass of wine and Stan had turned on the  
stereo, "You dance?"  
Francesca set aside the photo album. She'd been keeping herself busy  
by  
looking at photos of Stan growing up. She stopped when she reached  
the  
point of his and Stella's wedding pictures. She couldn't bring  
herself  
to see those. Deep inside she felt a twinge of jealousy  
towards Stella  
for her being loved so much by the man Frannie loved.  
But it only took  
her the moment to realize that it doesn't matter.  
Stan loves her now and  
that she was sure of, and that's all that  
matters. She almost couldn't  
stomach seeing Stella and Stanley's  
high school Prom pictures, but the  
pictures of Stan graduating from  
the Police Academy made it worthwhile.  
He looked so sharp in his  
perfectly pressed uniform. It made Frannie  
wonder if he still had  
it. The uniform that is. She knew he still had  
that charm. That  
was eternal.  
Before Francesca had a chance to reply to his question Stan had taken  
her hand and drawn her into his arms. Slowly the song began to play.  
The  
violin's sang the beginning while Stanley stood still holding  
her to him  
untill a rich voice filled the room, "Aaaaat Laaaast,"  
the beat of the  
song entered and Stan held her closer and began  
to sway. His whole body  
moved to the rhythm of the song. The old  
fashioned blues song made her  
want to toss her head back, move her  
hips to the beat and let the music  
take her over. It's melody and  
warm blues surrounded them, "My love has  
come along..."  
The violins made the room fill with a sweet sound, "My  
lonely  
days are over... and life is like a song..." His steps were  
smooth and fluid as he carried her with him, "Ohhhh, yeah yeah,  
aat  
laast the skies above are bluuue..." The words drifted  
away and for a  
moment it was only the twointo his arms. Slowly the  
song began to play.  
The violin's sang the beginning w  
But it ended too quickly. The song was over before she knew it. The  
words caught her ears, "and you smiled... you smiled... oh and then  
the  
spell was cast... and here we are in heaven..." Stanley  
placed one hand  
firmly on her back and held her securely as he dipped  
her untill her  
hair almost touched the floor. She felt like she'd  
somehow magically  
stepped into one of those old romantic black and  
white films. Too good  
to be true. Etta James' deep voice filled  
the room again after a long  
pause, "for you are mine..."  
to the sound of a piano being lightly  
played solo he lifted her  
back up to him in perfect harmony with the  
music. When he had her  
in his arms again the song continued in time,  
"Aaaaat Laaaast..."  
Slowly the layers of the song peeled away untill all  
that was left  
were the violins singing untill the song ended leaving  
them in silence.  
The both stopped swaying as Stan wrapped her in a hug  
then lightly  
kissed her forehead.  
The rest of the night they spent talking and dancing. Though for the  
more complicated dance steps Frannie spent most her time with her  
feet  
on top of his. Even that, Frannie dancing on his feet, made  
him happy.  
After all, the woman weighs maybe all of two ounces.  
Still it didn't  
matter. Nothing mattered right now, not even Fraser  
out in the living  
room didn't matter. So what if he knows? All that  
mattered right now to  
either of them was the person standing in  
front of them. Their eyes,  
their lips. Nothing else.  
Nearly five hours later Frannie decided she had to leave so Stanley  
walked her out and down to her car untill he knew she was safe. Even  
then he begged her to call his cell phone the moment she got home.  
And  
she had, to let him know she was safe. It was a mean world out  
there and  
he couldn't bare to see the person he cared so deeply  
for be engulfed in  
it. He felt the need to protect her. He felt  
the need to love her,  
because he did. He loved her.  
Back in the lobby of the apartment complex Stan held the door open for  
Frannie and himself to pass threw. They were now on the sidewalk  
in the  
middle of a busy city and to anyone else they were strangers.  
Frannie's  
new car not far from them. He walked her to it not wanting  
to release  
her, "Frannie, I'm sorry 'bout last night. I didn't  
know he was gonna,"  
she silenced him by pressing her fingertips  
to his warm lips.  
"Shhh... it's alright. I didn't mind. I loved  
it. It felt kinda...  
sneaky." She gave an evil grin, "I'd  
never been so..."  
He finished her by supplying the one word  
that fit, "Happy."  
Exactly. Frannie trailed her fingertips  
across his cheek tracing the  
crease that appears when he smiles,  
the one she'd fallen in love with.  
She leaned in and he wrapped  
himself around her. For a brief second the  
snowy streets of Chicago  
became the warmest place on earth as their lips  
touched and they  
kissed sweetly.  
Six stories above them Fraser stood peering out the window and mentally  
kicking himself for his embarrassing assumptions and suspicions.  
A deep  
red blush spread up his cheeks and his bright blue eyes glowed  
at the  
sight of Stanley and Frannie together. A Vecchio with a pretend  
Vecchio.  
What could be more absurd and more obvious than that? He  
smiled to  
himself, "Oh dear." Vecchio's have a strong  
power when it comes to  
emotions of the heart. Maybe it was just  
an Italian thing. Yeah. That  
had to be it. Fraser smiled to himself,  
"I should have known."  
The people below him had disappeared  
and he could hear footsteps coming  
towards the door. As Stan entered  
the apartment he asked Fraser, "So  
whaddya wanna talk 'bout?"  
"Oh nothing, Ray." A grin had spread a mile wide on his face.  
Stan's eyebrows met in the middle as he scrunched his face in confusion,  
"Fraser?" Uh-oh.

The End  
(~MDK~)  
October 1998  
Disclaimer: Same old, same old. They belong to Alliance, not me.  
P.S. I am using the blues song, "At Last," by The Extraordinary  
Etta  
James and no copyright infringement is intended by using the  
lyrics.

 


End file.
